


Love is a Mistake We Mend

by aceklaviergavin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Katsuki Yuuri, Inktober, Making Up, Miscommunication, Mistakes, Misunderstandings, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceklaviergavin/pseuds/aceklaviergavin
Summary: Yuuri's anxiety makes them lash out. Viktor knows Yuuri doesn't mean it, but it still hurts.They figure it out.





	1. Impasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Impasse
> 
> also posted on tumblr [here](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/post/166202275728/day-8-impasse-prompts-taken-from-here-see-under)
> 
> Written for inktober, I wanted to write something about how Viktor views himself as a coach.

Yuuri hit the ice with an echoing thud. Viktor’s mouth tightened into a thin line as Yuuri pushed themselves off the ice and circled around again.

“I can do it,” Yuuri insisted, preemptively cutting off Viktor’s protest.

“Yuuri,” Viktor sighed.

“I said I can do it!” Yuuri snapped, eyes flashing with anger.

Viktor waved Yuuri over to the side of the rink. Yuuri pretended not to notice.

“Yuuri,” Viktor called, voice making it clear that it wasn’t a request.

Yuuri huffed, skating over to Viktor. They angrily snatched their water bottle from the rink wall. Viktor’s first instinct was to take Yuuri’s hand, but Viktor knew better than to touch Yuuri when they were like this.

“I know you can do this,” Viktor began. “But—”

“You just don’t believe in me,” Yuuri snapped.

Viktor bristled, shoulders tensing. “You know that’s not true.”

Yuuri rolled their eyes. “If you want me to give up, then fine.” Yuuri angrily snapped on their skate guards and stormed past Viktor.

Viktor followed Yuuri to the benches where Yuuri angrily unlaced their skates. Viktor winced internally. That was _his_ job!

“It’s not giving up to take a break and approach something another day,” Viktor tried to explain.

Yuuri didn’t respond, solely focused on unlacing their skates.

Viktor sighed, and started to kneel. “Yuuri, let me,” Viktor began.

“I can do it myself,” Yuuri insisted, refusing to meet Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor paused in his movements. He blinked at Yuuri, shocked at Yuuri’s reaction. It was far from the first time Yuuri had snapped at Viktor because they were irritated. Viktor was guilty of it himself. But for some reason, this hurt more than all the other times.

“Fine,” Viktor said dejectedly. “I’ll get our things.

Viktor turned his back on Yuuri with an air of defeat.

Their argument had attracted attention from the others at the rink. Viktor’s icy stare caused most of the onlookers to turn away. Yurio skated up to the barrier.

“What’s Katsudon’s problem?” he asked.

Viktor shook his head. “Not now,” Viktor sighed.

He continued past Yurio and their other rinkmates. He grabbed his skate bag from the locker room, before sulking in the hallway as he waited for Yuuri.

Viktor tried to remind himself that Yuuri had been having a bad day. They had been antsy and on edge since they woke up. Yuuri had insisted on practicing as normal anyway. No matter how Viktor tried to ease Yuuri’s anxiety, it only worsened as the day wore on. Viktor knew this was something out of his control, had learned over many months of living with Yuuri. It still hurt not to be able to take Yuuri’s anxiety away.

As a result, Yuuri’s afternoon practice was, frankly, a disaster. Yuuri had insisted on practicing jumps against Viktor’s instructions. Yuuri proceeded to flub their jumps, get more frustrated, and flub their jumps again in a never-ending downward spiral.

It was something that Viktor had seen many times. That wasn’t what stung, beyond the empathetic twinge in his chest at seeing someone he loved in pain. What stung was Yuuri’s complete disregard for Viktor’s instructions as a coach, not to mention Yuuri’s cutting remarks afterward.

Did Yuuri not trust Viktor as a coach? Was Viktor not a good coach? Did they want another coach?

Viktor tried his best not to take it personally, to remind himself that it was Yuuri’s anxiety speaking. But a bitter voice in the back of Viktor’s head whispered that even with their anxiety, Yuuri would never treat their previous coach this way.

Viktor was pulled from his thoughts by the echo of clipped footsteps down the hall. Viktor glanced up to see Lilia approaching, face pinched and arms folded close to her chest.

“Hello, Madame Lilia,” Viktor said politely.

Lilia raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow at Viktor’s greeting. “Being upset is no excuse to slouch, Vitya,” she scolded.

Viktor immediately straightened. He was suddenly eighteen again, with Lilia holding a ruler to his back until he learned to stand straight.

“My apologies, Madame Lilia,” he sighed.

Lilia met Viktor’s gaze with stone-cold eyes. A minute passed before Lilia huffed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with a clipped tone. “Out with it.”

“It’s nothing,” Viktor insisted.

Lilia’s only response was a wordless, icy glare. Viktor let out a resigned sigh.

“Am I a bad coach?” Viktor asked, his voice carrying a hint of a whine.

Lilia quirked her eyebrow. “What brought this on?”

“It’s just…” Viktor bit his lip. “Everyone acts like my coaching is a hobby, like it takes a backseat to my own skating. They assume it’s not important to me, like it’s just something I do for fun.”

It all came out in one breath before Viktor even realized he was speaking. And the words just kept coming.

“Whenever I’m at a competition as Yuuri’s coach, everyone treats me like a competitor. None of the other coaches treat me like an equal, and even Yuuri…”

Viktor trailed off, throat suddenly growing tight. Now that the words were out, Viktor realized this had been bothering him for a while. To some extent, he understood why he fit in better with other skaters. His own career was still very much at the forefront of everyone’s minds, and he was much younger than most of the other coaches.

But there was a difference between choosing to spend time with other skaters, and not having his coaching recognized at all. Even Yakov didn’t respect him as a coach.

Lilia watched him analytically, face unmoving. Even after years of working with the woman, Viktor struggling to parse her expressions. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth twitched upward into a smirk.

“You are just like Yasha when he was younger.” Her voice still sounded like she was scolding him.

“You are not a good coach,” she said simply.

Viktor winced, and braced himself for one of Lilia’s lectures. He looked down, refusing to meet Lilia’s gaze.

“You are inexperienced and often forgetful, which shows in your dealings with Yuuri. The methds you use with Yuuri are unlikely to work on others, and if you choose to continue you coaching career when Yuuri retires, you’ll likely have difficulty making the transition.”

Viktor felt like he was three feet tall under Lilia’s gaze. He was eighteen and getting scolded for showing up at the rink hungover all over again.

“However.” Viktor tentatively raised his eyes to meet Lilia’s. “You’ve had incredible success with Yuuri, and brought out something in them that no one else could. You’re clearly just as driven and hard working with your coaching as you are with your skating. I think in time, with dedication and perseverance, you could be a great coach.”

Viktor hid his face in his hands, struggling to hold his tears back. That was undoubtedly the nicest thing Lilia had ever said to him.

“You’re right. You’ve earned more respect than you’ve been shown. As far as Yuuri…” Lilia pursed her lips thoughtfully. “They don’t treat you like a coach, but you are not just their coach. Those boundaries are something you will have to work out yourselves.”

Viktor dropped his hands, and met Lilia’s gaze with shining eyes. Her face was much the same as ever, but somehow Viktor sensed more warmth in her eyes.

“Thank you, Madame Lilia,” Viktor sniffled.

Lilia cocked her head, looking at Viktor strangely. “You’ve grown this past year.”

Viktor smiled sunnily. “Yes.” Viktor stepped into Lilia’s space, looping his arms around her shoulders.

Lilia was clearly caught off guard, eyes wide and stiff as a board in Viktor’s arms. “Thank you,” Viktor repeated.

He stepped back, only for Lilia to shake her head at him. “Now go sort things out with your fiancé.”


	2. Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Defiance
> 
> also posted on tumblr [here](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/post/166485415323/day-16-defiance-prompts-taken-from-here-see)
> 
> viktor still doesn't talk to his fiance and things reach a boiling point

Yuuri’s anxiety had been building to a crescendo all day. Like two metal bars grinding together, heat and friction bubbled in Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri was a poorly oiled machine, gears grinding endlessly until something bust.

Yuuri tumbled across the ice, like a limp ragdoll. Years and years of practice had taught Yuuri how to fall. Yuuri grumbled under his breath and pushed himself to his feet.

Viktor sighed audibly at the edge of the rink. The sound was a knife in Yuuri’s chest, a wrench between the cogs of his machine.

“I know,” Yuuri spat, already circling around to try again.

“Then watch your center, this time!” Viktor barked for the tenth time. “Don’t overbalance!”

Yuuri tried, toe pick striking hard against the ice. He spun once, twice, three times… three-and-a-half times before crashing down. Yuuri huddled in a defeated heap, fists striking the ice.

“Yuuri,” Viktor sighed. “You’re overthinking, again.”

Yuuri’s knuckles whitened beneath his gloves. It only took a hairline fracture to destroy a perfect machine. Over hundreds of hours of use, the metal would wear, and corrode, building stress upon stress.

Viktor kept talking, a wordless drone to Yuuri’s ears as the pressure inside him built to a breaking point.

Yuuri’s chest ruptured, a violent fracture the rung in his ears.

“Fuck off!”

The entire rink fell into silence, all eyes turning to where Yuuri still kneeled on the ice.

As soon as the words left Yuuri’s mouth, and the pressure in Yuuri’s chest diffused, he wanted to snatch them back. He slowly looked up, arms shaking where they held him on the ice. Yuuri’s eyes caught on Viktor, and Yuuri wanted the floor to swallow him up.

Hurt shone in Viktor’s eyes, as he stared down at Yuuri. Yuuri flashed back to Barcelona, and the crystal-clear tears that had dripped from Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri had sworn never to hurt Viktor like that again.

Yuuri rose to his feet. “Viktor,” he started, tone apologetic.

Viktor’s mask fell back into place, the wounded shine replaced by a glassy stare. “It’s fine,” Viktor said shortly.

“No, Vitya, I’m…” Yuuri began, reaching for Viktor over the barrier.

“Do some cool-down stretches with Yurio,” Viktor said brusquely. “I’m heading home.”

All of Yuri’s words caught in his throat as he watched Viktor walk away. Yuuri knew he’d fucked up. How did he start to fix this?

Yuuri stepped off the ice, no more energy to keep practicing. He took off his skates, wishing Viktor were there to take them off for him.

He started to run through his usual cooldown stretches at rinkside, stretching his quads on the ground.

“What happened between you and the old man?” Yurio asked tactlessly.

Yuuri looked up at Yurio, shame still hot on his face. Don’t you have stretches to be doing?” Yuuri grumbled.

Yurio thumbed at Yakov over his shoulder. “Yakov told me to come and help you.”

Yuuri grumbled under his breath, allowing Yurio to press on his back deepening the stretch. Yuuri hiss as a pleasant burn shot all the way up his leg.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Yurio asked.

Yuuri tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at Yurio. “Are you going to stop being nosy?” he shot back.

Yurio huffed, allowing Yuuri to release the stretch. “What crawled up your ass and died?” he grumbled as Yuuri returned the favor and helped Yurio stretch.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but I don’t need relationship advice from a teenager.”

Yakov’s footsteps were heavy against the concrete floor. “Yuratchka, I told you to help Yuuri stretch, not to gossip,” he said in halting English.

Yurio grumbled under his breath while Yakov watched over them. After a few minutes, he let Yurio go and stayed to supervise the rest of Yuuri’s cooldown.

“Yuuri, what happened?” Yakov finally asked, gaze levelled on Yuuri.

Yuuri stiffened, suddenly feeling like he was in enemy territory. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Yuuri’s presence at the rink was contingent on his relationship with Viktor.

“I made a mistake, Feltsman-san,” Yuuri said, bowing his head.

Yakov scoffed at Yuuri, and made Yuuri feel about three inches tall. “That much was clear.”

Yuuri sighed. “I got frustated, and I yelled at him. He didn’t deserve it.”

Yakov nodded, digesting the information. “I see.”

The silence stretched on as Yuuri stretched, struggling not to crumble under Yakov’s hard gaze.

“If Vitya had ever yelled at me like that, I would have him running drills until his legs fell off,” Yakov said.

Hot tears pricked at the back of Yuuri’s eyes. “I know, Feltsman-san,” Yuuri said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Yakov let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Yuuri curled in on himself. He already knew he’d fucked up. He didn’t need all of Viktor’s extended family to remind him.

“I know,” Yuuri croaked.

“We all make mistakes,” Yakov huffed. “The important thing is to know how to apologize for them.”

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to look at Yakov, afraid of what he might find. But he almost felt like Yakov was trying to help.

“I will, of course,” Yuuri said quietly.

“I’m sure you know by now,” Yakov began. “But Vitya is a gentle soul. He isn’t always honest about what upsets him.”

Yuuri sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “I wish he would just tell me. So that I wouldn’t keep ruining everything.”

“Yuuri Toshiyevich,” Yakov barked.

Yuuri finally turned his head to look at Yakov. Yakov looked back with a stern gaze. “You have hardly ruined anything.”

“But I yelled at him,” Yuuri sniffled. “I hurt him.”

“If that was all it took to ruin a relationship, then no one would stay together.”

Yuuri glanced down, feeling like a scolded child.

“These growing pains are part of any relationship. The important thing is that you talk to Vitya,” Yakov repeated.

Had Yuuri really been naive to think that his and Viktor’s relationship would be free of strife? Had he thought that he’d be able to go the rest of their lives without hurting Viktor again?

It didn’t make the flash of hurt Yuuri had seen on Viktor’s face any easier to swallow.

Yuuri shot up suddenly. Viktor was at home, alone; Yuuri had been so busy wallowing in his own self-loathing he had forgotten about Viktor.

“Feltsman-san, I need to go home,” Yuuri said, giving Yakov a short bow.

“See that you do,” Yakov said.

If Yuuri didn’t know any better, he would almost have sworn he saw a small smile on the old man’s face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yuuri Toshiyevich" inaccurate but i thought it was cute


	3. Breakable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Breakable
> 
> cross-posted on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/post/166762132128/day-24-breakable-prompts-taken-from-here-see)
> 
> vitya and yuuri are bad with words but they talk it out

Yuuri stopped outside their apartment. He was suddenly seized with a paralyzing anxiety. What would he say when he walked in the door? Would Viktor even be there, waiting for him? What if Viktor had left him?

For a horrifying moment, Yuuri was seized with the impulse to leave, to turn around and hide in a park until nightfall. It would be easier than confronting his mistakes.  Viktor probably wouldn’t want to see him anyway, after what Yuuri had done.

Yuuri shook that urge off. Yes, it would be easier to run away, and that was exactly why Yuuri had to own up to his mistakes. He owed it to Viktor to face him, to not leave Viktor by himself, to not add more worries to the ones Yuuri had already caused.

Yuuri took a deep breath and keyed into the apartment. He quietly shuffled inside, going through his usual routine of hanging his coat on the door, and his keys on the hook. The only difference was usually Viktor was beside him, holding his hand and unwrapping his scarf from his neck.

The scrape of neatly trimmed claws on hardwood greeted Yuuri. Makkachin trotted up to him with big, doleful eyes. Yuuri happily scratched Makkachin behind the ears.

“Hey, Makka,” Yuuri cooed. “Were you keeping Papa company?” Makkachin leaned into Yuuri’s hand. “Good puppy.”

Yuuri looked around the apartment. From the doorway, the living area and kitchen were visible. They showed no sign of Viktor. That meant Viktor was probably curled up in the bedroom.

Yuuri’s chest ached; he was suddenly hit with a vision of Viktor bundled in bed with Makka, sniffling into her fur.

“Viktor?” Yuuri called gently.

Yuuri heard a shuffling sound from the bedroom. Viktor slowly poked his head out the door and eyed Yuuri warily.

“Yuuri,” he replied, meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri’s hands anxiously rubbed at Makkachin’s fur. “I’m home,” he said lamely.

Viktor nodded, still eyeing Yuuri warily. The silence stretched awkwardly between them, neither knowing exactly how to breach this rift. Yuuri’s mouth went dry as he struggled to string words together in his head. They weren’t good at this, at talking to people and sorting through their problems. Whatever made Yuuri think he was ready for a relationship?

Yuuri swallowed thickly. “Can—can we talk?”

Viktor watched Yuuri for a moment before nodding. “I think that’d be best.”

He disappeared behind the bedroom door for a minute. Yuuri sat down at the kitchen table, hands folded in his lap as he waited for Viktor. Makkachin sat at his feet, tail wagging slowly.

Anxiety knotted in Yuuri’s gut. In Yuuri’s younger days, he’d probably dig into the worst junk food he could find to bury the nerves under as many carbs as possible. While that instinct wasn’t nonexistent, Yuuri wasn’t about to let Viktor walk in on him covered in barbecue sauce.

Makkachin whimpered at his side, resting her chin in his lap. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile through his anxiety, and scratched Makka’s ears.

Viktor finally stepped out of the bedroom, hair hastily made and concealer dabbed under his eyes. Yuuri’s chest ached at the thought of Viktor crying. Viktor sat at the kitchen table across from Yuuri. Makkachin glanced at her master, clearly torn between who she was supposed to comfort.

Viktor primly folded his hands on the table, the picture of press ready. But Yuuri knew better than to buy it, and it hurt that Viktor would use that facade on him.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri finally blurted out.

Viktor was clearly startled by the force of the admission. Viktor glanced down, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“It’s alright,” he insisted.

Yuuri frowned. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Viktor still refused to meet Yuuri’s eyes. “No, but I know you have anxiety. It’s not your fault.”

Yuuri sighed. He didn’t understand why Viktor was making this more difficult. “Maybe, but that’s not an excuse,” Yuuri said. “I know I hurt you.”

Viktor flinched at that. “It wasn’t you yelled that hurt me,” he finally said.

Yuuri blinked, slightly stunned at Viktor’s admission. “O-okay. Then what?”

Viktor sighed, continuing to play with his hair. At times like these, Yuuri could easily imagine Viktor anxiously braiding his hair, or picking at split ends.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he started, voice wavering. “If... if you want another coach.”

Yuuri stared at Viktor with wide eyes. “W-what?” he stuttered.

He didn’t even know where to start. Want another coach? When Viktor had coached Yuuri to the height of his career? And pushed him past his limits every day? Why would Yuuri ever want another coach?

“Vitya... Why would you even think that?” Yuuri asked breathlessly.

Viktor finally met Yuuri’s eyes, and for once Yuuri saw their own anxiety reflected in his features.

“I know I’m not a good coach,” Viktor sighed. “So I’d understand if you wanted someone else.”

Yuuri blinked at Viktor, stunned into silence. “How can you say that? You coached me to win multiple medals this season.”

“But I made so many mistakes!” Viktor exclaimed. “And I’m inexperienced.”

“That’s okay,” Yuuri said. “You’re learning, you don’t have to be perfect. I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

Viktor pouted, clearly upset at the implication that perfection was unattainable. “Even, even then... No one respects me as a couch.” Viktor once again shifted his gaze away. “Sometimes... it feels like even you don’t...”

Those words were a knife if Yuuri’s gut, punching the air out of him. Had... had he really let Viktor down that badly? He hadn’t been able to return the love and support Viktor had shown him?

“What... what made you think that?” Yuuri asked, voice hoarse.

Viktor bit his lip. “It’s that... no one treats me like a coach. Everyone still treats me like another skater. Which in some cases is fair. I’m younger than most other coaches, and I still hang out with the other skaters.

“But I try really hard!” Viktor exclaimed. “I... I really enjoy coaching and... and I want to continue when I retire.”

Yuuri’s heart ached for Viktor. He understood better than anyone trying really hard, but having all that effort amount to nothing in the end. He remembered it in the bruises on his ankles, and the ever-present ache in his knees.

“Oh, Vitya, I know how hard you try,” Yuuri said.

Viktor nodded. “I know you do... But even then... sometimes the way you treat me at the rink... I feel like you don’t respect me as a coach either,” he said timidly.

Yuuri stayed silent while Viktor spoke. Viktor’s eyes flicked around the room, and he shifted nervously in his seat. His words were timid, in a way Yuuri hadn’t heard before. For the first time, it occurred to Yuuri that Viktor wasn’t used to relationship talks either.

“When I’m coaching you, you talk back, and ignore my advice. And to some degree, it’s fine. But I can’t help but think that you wouldn’t treat Celestino this way, and that makes me think you don’t think of me as a real coach.” Viktor sighed. “What happened today just drove that home.”

Yuuri watched Viktor calm down from his confession. He thought back on the way he spoke to Viktor at the rink, all the times he’d ignored Viktor’s orders to leave the ice and snapped at him. Yuuri was ashamed to admit that Viktor was right, and they never would have spoken to Celestino that way.

“Oh, Vitya, you’ve been bottling this up for a long time, haven’t you?” Yuuri asked quietly.

Vitya paused for a moment, and then nodded.

Yuuri sighed softly. “I wish you would have said something sooner.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Yuuri said. “You’re right. I would never yell at Celestino-san the way I yelled at you today,” he admitted shamefully. “Though, I’d like to point out I wasn’t engaged to Celestino-san either.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh slightly. It warmed Yuuri’s heart, to know he could make Viktor laugh even like this.

Yuuri continued. “But it’s not fair to you. What can I do?”

Viktor seemed taken aback, surprised at the direction this conversation was going. “I... I’m not sure.”

“Do you want me to be more professional at the rink?” Yuuri suggested.

“I don’t think so... It only really bothers me when I’m coaching. And you can talk back a little, I know I certainly did. Just... I don’t know, remember that I’m your coach, and I say what I do out of concern...” Viktor rambled.

Yuuri couldn’t help the tender look that passed over his face. “I’ll keep that in mid,” he promised. “Will you tell me if I step out of line?”

Viktor nodded. Yuuri smiled, and reached forward to take Viktor’s hand. “Then we’ll work it out,” Yuuri promised.

Viktor’s face broke out into a smile, and he immediately leaned into Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri cradled Viktor against his chest. Relief flooded Yuuri’s body, feeling weightless now that their anxiety had lifted. They pressed a kiss to Viktor’s temple.

“No matter what happens, you’re the only coach for me,” Yuuri promised. “Until the day I retire.

Viktor nuzzled into Yuuri’s neck, a tender feeling in his chest. “I hope you never retire.”


End file.
